


(I’m Made Of Fire)

by BlushingDragon



Series: Bite-Size Drabbles, Dragon Age Edition [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Attraction, Based on a Skillet Song, Berserker Specialization, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble, Dragon Fight Trope - Dragon Age (Video Games), F/F, Love Confessions, Prompt Fic, Reaver specialization, Romance, Warrior Hawke - Freeform, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushingDragon/pseuds/BlushingDragon
Summary: The first time she saw Andrea Hawke fight, fog swirling about them and the undead that prowled Sundermount’s summits, Hawke was a wildfire.





	(I’m Made Of Fire)

Merrill had once seen a lightning bolt strike the Brecilian forest during the dry season: without the rains to sooth its wrath, fire raged along the far off grove. The hissing and snapping wood sounded like demented laughter, like the wordless noise that a darkspawn horde made before charging. The sight of bright flames had seared their place in Merrill’s memory, and she called upon the memory as she practiced her combat spells, miniature lightning storms that she contained in fear of the same wildfire.

The first time she saw Andrea Hawke fight, fog swirling about them and the undead that prowled Sundermount’s summits, Hawke was a wildfire. Bright orange hair whipped around her face in its tight tail; one of the few things differing Hawke from Aveline. Her shield bash was the collapsing trees, her sword the leaping flames. Her blue eyes were bright as lightning, and when each enemy fell, Hawke’s tired sound of relief was a halting laugh.

Merrill tried to keep from babbling by biting her tongue. She didn’t know whether it was the combat or Hawke’s ferocity that excited the blood in her veins, but she hoped that the chilly mountain air hid the flush staining her cheeks.

To Merrill’s bemusement, the feeling that she had in that first skirmish recurred over the years in Kirkwall with the same intensity as the first time. No matter how many times she walked into battle with Hawke, no matter how many times she saw Hawke disheveled and excited from exertion, Merrill’s blood rushed in her ears and her heartbeat pounded in her skull. It felt more exciting than intoxication, safer than practicing blood magic, and so Merrill always had time for Hawke when the warrior called on her.

That was how Merrill found herself on yet another mission in the Bone Pit with Hawke, Isabela, and Varric. The warrior had but to knock on her door, and the bright blue eyes, seemingly aglow with excitement, had already secured her agreement before Merrill could speak a word, no matter what may come.

Of course, what was to come was a fully-grown dragon, because what else could be when Hawke was involved? Merrill and Varric kept their distance as best they could, but the buffeting gusts of wind from the dragon’s enormous wings drew them in to close-quarters. Merrill’s footing vanished and she tumbled, only to be caught by a wall of chilled plate armor.

Squinting against the gust, Merrill made eye contact with Hawke, who had wrapped an arm around her to steady the elf. As their gazed locked, the lines of worry on Hawke’s face faded into her signature cocksure smile. Wisps of hair had escaped its braid, creating a halo of flame around her face. Hawke was gorgeous, especially up close. Merrill’s lips moved of her own accord but her words were drowned out from the pounding in her ears; lightheaded as she was, she said, “I love you.”

Hawke blinked several times and grinned sharply before pressing her lips on Merrill’s cheek. “Well, that takes one concern off my shoulders,” Hawke said with a sweet smile. Behind her, Merrill could hear the thunderous crash of the dragon returning to ground.

“Next problem, though… we might die,” Hawke joked casually, and her smile became knife-sharp and vicious as she charged towards the dragon’s maw.

Merrill laughed, and suddenly understood how Hawke must feel in battle. Drawing on her magic, she let loose a lightning storm, more fierce and more wild than ever before. The thunder cackled like fire, and Merrill heard Hawke’s answering whoop through the sounds of the battle. Her nerves sang, and she had never felt so free of fear before.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by how I feel listening to “Feel Invincible” by Skillet and the prompt “Next problem... we might die” off a Tumblr prompt list.


End file.
